Holding the cloak; A metaphor for Indigenous Leadership
By 2022 Atlantic Fellow for Social Equity Holly Weir-Tikao (Ngāi Tahu), Aotearoa
The following passage is adapted from a reflective essay submitted for the Indigenous Leadership Module as part of the requirements for the Masters in Social Change Leadership. Holly is from Te Waipounamu (South Island) in Aotearoa New Zealand and is currently the Project Manager at TIPU MAHI: South Island Māori Health Workforce Development Project.
This piece is lovingly dedicated to the late Peter Te Rangihīroa Ramsden who was a living embodiment of rangatiratanga (chieftainship), and who taught me much about leadership and humility. Uncle Pete passed away on February 4, 2022, on the final day of the Enacting Influence module of the Cohort 22 AFSE programme. His legacy is forever tied to my journey through this fellowship.
On July 4, 2020, Uncle Pete was awarded the New Zealand Order of Merit for services to conservation in acknowledgement of the decades he spent restoring traditional lands and waterways at Koukourarata. Acknowledgements to Holly Weir-Tikao and her Whanau for allowing us to share their story.
This reflective essay will unpack the characteristics and values of my own Indigenous leadership practice using the experience of Uncle Pete’s investiture into the New Zealand Order of Merit on 4 July 2020 to explore how this pivotal experience has shaped my thinking, learnings, and knowledge of Indigenous leadership practice today. This story uses the event to interrogate my place as an Indigenous leader within the themes of whakamā (shyness and self doubt), through holding the physical and metaphorical cloak of leadership.
As a person who has been displaced from my tribal lands for many years, I would generally only see Uncle Pete every so often, so I was excited to receive a call from him mysteriously inviting me to “this thing they’re doing at the marae.”
Further investigation with extended family members revealed this “thing” was Uncle Pete’s investiture into the New Zealand Order of Merit, and he had agreed to accept the award only on the condition that the investiture ceremony take place at Koukourarata Marae (Indigenous Māori meeting house) where Māori self-determination and tikanga (correct Māori protocols and customary systems of values and practices) preside.
For the occasion, Uncle was adorned with a traditional family cloak, approximately 180 years old, that was temporarily released from the Te Papa National Museum archive.
Uncle Pete had asked me to sing his waiata kīnaki (song of support) for his acceptance speech at the ceremony, however when I arrived early at the marae and saw the crowds starting to gather it became apparent that space would be limited so I began to feel anxious and unsure of where I should be positioned during the ceremony. I could see the many tribal leaders, officials and dignitaries who were gathered and, as we moved inside, I noticed the seats reserved for Uncle Pete and his whanau were fewer than expected. I quickly moved to the back to sit on the floor next to the seats. As everyone took their seats, I quietly congratulated myself. This was the best possible outcome for me - here I felt safe and comfortable, out of the public view, away from the cameras and taking up the least space possible. Plus, from my position on the floor, I got to sit very close to Uncle Pete.
As the time arrived for Uncle to deliver his korero (speech) and as he stood and started speaking, the very old and treasured cloak began to slip from his shoulders. Secured around him by safety pins, the delicate fabric began to tear, with Uncle trying to readjust the cloak whilst continuing his speech. The family and I exchanged worried looks – what would happen if the cloak tore or fell off? Each time Uncle moved, the heavy cloak began to slip again, and we could sense the challenge and concern he was experiencing. If the precious cloak tore or completely fell off, mana (dignity) would be lost during the process. As the only family member seated on the floor, I was less visible to the crowds so responding to a nod from my cousin, I jumped up from my location and readjusted the cloak on Uncle’s shoulders intending to immediately return to my position on the floor, but as soon as I moved my hands the cloak started to slip again. I shot my cousin a terrified look which was meant to convey “help! What should I do?” He shrugged back as if to say, “well you’re stuck up there now I guess.” That is how I came to be the only person standing with my uncle, holding this traditional ancestral cloak on his shoulders during the entirety of his acceptance speech at his investiture.
Holding Uncle Pete's Cloak Image credit: Sampson Karst Photography
If I am completely honest, I do not recall all the words in Uncle Pete’s speech, I was feeling caught between intense layers of whakamā and the awe of what was transpiring. Without a word exchanged between us, I felt Uncle physically relax knowing I was behind him and knowing I would not move but would stay with him holding the cloak. The horror of how quickly things had changed from me being hidden on the floor to suddenly finding myself standing publicly at the very centre of the proceedings felt stark against the silent conversation that was happening between my uncle, myself, and the cloak.
From my standpoint, going to Uncle’s investiture held conflicting emotions – whakamā and a reluctance to ‘take up space’ or be in the spotlight, contrasted against the privilege and responsibility of delivering his waiata kīnaki. Positioning myself on the floor was a comfortable choice – an in-between space, hidden from view. True introspection reveals that in that moment, it also suited me to physically hide. This is recurring theme in my own Indigenous leadership practice – the dualistic nature of fulfilling responsibilities and being in service to my community whilst also questioning my place, suitability and/or ability to serve.
I often feel torn between the desire to hide and quell feelings of whakamā as they arise, and the sense of duty to fulfil responsibilities asked of me by hāpori (community) or as dictated by contextual cultural situations. The experience of holding Uncle Pete’s cloak humbled me in a unique way. It was tika (right and correct) for someone in the family to uphold the mana of Uncle Pete in that situation.
Wairuatanga as the embodiment of spiritual elements which are often not recognised or accepted as valid in Western models of practice however it was very significant in my experience of holding the cloak.
“The cloak of leadership was physically and spiritually heavy and it humbled me deeply to have the experience of supporting my uncle to hold it up.”
Holly Weir-Tikao
There was a great honour and deep learning in the spiritual and wordless conversation that happened between Uncle, myself, and the cloak.
Heavy is the burden of those who are charged to carry the cloak, but invaluable learning came from the immediate sense of aid I was able to provide in simply standing and supporting the servant leadership of Uncle. These are the learnings that inform my thinking on what values are needed to carry out social change work in the future because, like the title of this essay, there are bound to be future situations where I am the one holding the cloak.
“Indigenous leadership requires overcoming individual fears, colonial impositions and expressions of shame and ’making small’, in order to best serve when needed.”
Holly Weir-Tikao
Indigenous leadership requires overcoming individual fears, colonial impositions and expressions of whakamā, shame and ’making small’ in order to best serve when needed. The learnings from the experience of standing and holding the cloak with my uncle are things that no amount of literature could impart to the same degree, however analysis of what it means for my Indigenous leadership practice in the future will help consolidate the learnings from the Indigenous Leadership module for social change work now and in times to come.
My final words are for my uncle: Thank you for calling me to stand.
E te rangatira, moe mai rā i raro i te korowai mahana o tōku nei aroha mōu. Cherished chief, sleep peacefully under the warm cloak of love I have for you.
1 This was unusual, as investiture ceremonies for recipients of the New Zealand Order of Merit are typically hosted by the New Zealand Governor General at Government House Auckland or Government House Wellingtons
2 In Te Ao Māori (the Māori world), the singing of waiata kīnaki to support a speaker is an important process. The word kīnaki can be translatedas ‘embellishment’ and both song choice and delivery are intertwined with the orator and the messages in their speech. Waiata kīnaki can either add to or detract from the mana associated with the speech and speechmaker.
3 Traditionally, in our tribal tikanga custom, a person performing waiata kīnaki will stand with the kaikōrero (orator). If not positioned with thespeaker, kaiwaiata (singers) will often physically move to perform the song next to (or behind) the kaikōrero to show collective support andsolidarity. This can be challenging if there are people or obstacles in the way.
4 Taonga means something highly prized, treasured, or precious, and refers to much more than garments of clothing specifically. Uncle Pete’stwo children were also wearing cloaks that had been released from the museum for the occasion.
5 Whakamā is a complex and layered Māori concept with no English equivalent. It is often translated as the feeling of ‘shyness, embarrassment or inadequacy’. In this paper I also use this term to define the feeling of ‘taking up space’ when you are unsure if you are taking a place that could or should be occupied by someone else.